


dancing on thin ice

by droplets



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-03-23 22:58:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13798113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/droplets/pseuds/droplets
Summary: Noora Sætre: Poise. Grace. Norway’s sweetheart.William Magnusson: Raw power. Newcomer. A fixed feature in the tabloids.Despite being the two most well-known athletes of the same sport, they’ve successfully managed to avoid each other. Until now. Circumstances force them to perform a routine together, and that is exactly when all hell breaks loose.Or: a figure skating AU.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> This is my first fic in the fandom and it's been ages since I last wrote anything for fun, but I saw this idea somewhere and got inspired. I hope you'll like it!
> 
> Julie Andem has all the rights, while all mistakes are mine.

“No.” was the first thing out of Noora’s mouth, followed by an “I’m not doing that.” when she heard her manager’s idea.

“Listen, Noora, I know he’s not your favorite person in the world, but this is a huge opportunity.”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what they offered.”

“And I don’t care. There is nothing they can offer to make me even step on the same patch of ice as that asshole.”

“Now you’re being rude. Why do you hate the guy so much?”

“None of your business, Eskild.”

“Have you even met him?”

“I said none of your business.”

“Oh, come on, Noora. At least, look at the offer.” Eskild thrust a folder towards her and Noora reluctantly took it.

She quickly scanned the pages, her eyes catching on the figure in bold. She had to admit, they were offering her a nice sum. One that would solve her financial issues for several months. But then she looked at the conditions again, saw his name, and knew that she would rather live on the cheapest frozen meals she could get than perform a routine with William Magnusson. She closed the folder and attempted to hand it back to Eskild, but he just shook his head. Sighing, Noora tucked it into her bag, and headed out of his office.

“Just think about it, okay?” Eskild yelled after her.

* * *

 

On the other side of Oslo, a very hungover William Magnusson was trying to keep his eyes open long enough to appear to be listening to whatever Chris, his best friend-turned-coach-slash-manager was saying.

“...this is the solution to everything. This could save your career.”

_That_ caught his attention.

“What the hell do you mean by “save my career?” he interrupted Chris’ little speech, rubbing his temples.

Rolling his eyes, Chris slammed down a newspaper in front of him.

“ _Another scandal: ice skating star seen staggering out of a bar, after a fight with another patron._ ” said the headline in bold, supplemented by several, quite unflattering shots of William.

“Fuck.” So that must have been the reason for his worse-than-ever headache.

“Exactly, fuck, William.” Chris slightly raised his voice. “You’re damn lucky that all this partying hasn’t affected your skating abilities yet. I actually have no idea how you do that, but apparently, that’s what’s gonna save your ass. You’re gonna go, take part in this gala, give a bunch of interviews about how you couldn’t accept any money for it, because the cause is important to you, and then you’ll be back on track.”

“Okay,” William mumbled, putting his head in his hands. “Tell them I said okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, reviews and kudos are much appreciated! :)


	2. Our paths were bound to cross

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> Well, don't get used to this, but I'm so happy that this story got over a 100 hits in just 24 hours that I just had to write the new chapter. It's kind of slow-moving, but I promise that the plot will pick up the pace soon. Hope you like it!

When Noora unlocked the door to her flat, she was greeted by silence, just like every day for the previous 3 months, ever since Isak, the last of her flatmates had moved out. She could understand their reasons, of course – Eva had finally been offered that scholarship from her dream dance school in Paris, Vilde just wanted to spend some time abroad, travelling and finding herself, and Isak...well, it’s pretty hard to say no when your gorgeous boyfriend proposes and asks you to move in with them at the same time – but still, while her friends were all having the time of their lives, she felt that hers was just getting more and more bleak. Not only did she feel lonely, her newfound solitude also came with a number of potential problems. When they had been living together, they had shared all costs – utility bills, food, whatever else that would randomly come up. Now Noora was on her own, and bills seemed to accumulate a lot faster than before. The apartment was hers, so she didn’t have to worry about being kicked out, and she was still making ends meet, but she could feel herself growing more worried every day. One of her sponsorship contracts would expire within a month and so far she hadn’t heard from the company about whether they wanted to renew it. Actually, there was a general lull regarding sponsorships – she knew it was natural, being right in the middle of the olympic cycle, when both the previous and the upcoming games seemed too far away to be on people’s minds and world championships had never drawn that much interest – but that didn’t help her case. Eskild had apparently sensed that something was wrong and was doing his absolute best to help her out, bombarding her with various ideas, like writing a book or setting up an ice skating academy, but Noora knew that she wouldn’t be able to do a proper job with any of those. Not when she spent 6 days out of 7 on the ice.

After sorting through her mail and whipping up some dinner, Noora sat down in her favorite chair and opened the folder again. This time, she read the whole thing properly. A smaller non-profit was planning to host a charity gala, featuring performances from the best athletes and musicians in Norway, with all the proceeds going to their foundation, supporting children in need. Noora googled the organization’s name and saw that they had a video about their projects. She clicked play.

* * *

  _In retrospect, watching the video was a terrible idea_ , Noora thought, as she wiped the tears from her eyes. After seeing those children, the looks on their faces, hope and suffering evident in their eyes, there was no way she could say no to participating in the gala. Not only that, she was going to have to decline the money offered. She had to help. And if that involved skating with William Magnusson, well, so be it.

She dialed Eskild’s number, not caring that it was almost 9. Eskild was as much of a friend to her as he was her manager.

He picked up immediately.

“Hey, Noora!”

“Hi, Eskild. I’m just calling to say that you can tell them that I’m willing to talk about the gala. Can you ask them to schedule a meeting?”

“Just did.” She could hear the pride in his voice.

“What? How?”

“I had an e-mail pre-written. I know you, Noora. Your moral compass wouldn’t let you pass up this opportunity...well, either that, ooor... you just saw a picture of William, and finally admitted to yourself that he’s gorgeous and...”

“Shut up, Eskild,” Noora cut in.

“I’m just saying that he probably has a really great body...”

“Eskild.” Noora’s voice had taken on a warning tone.

“Okay, okay. I’ll let you know when they reply.”

“Thank you. Good night!” Noora ended the call, heading to bed. She had an early morning practice the next day, so she had to be fresh.

* * *

Noora leaned back in her chair and tried to relax into its softness, as she waited in the empty office. The receptionist – Sara, according to her nametag – had looked at her apologetically and informed her that Mr. Magnusson was running late.

_Of course. She wouldn’t have expected him to be on time anyway. Based on what she knew about him, he was probably going to saunter in, wearing sunglasses and one of those overpriced hoodies and expect everybody to fall at his feet._

15 minutes later, she got to test that theory out. The door opened and William entered (wearing a hoodie, as she had guessed, but the sunglasses were only dangling from its hem – worth half a point, anyway), followed by a blonde woman, whom Noora assumed to be the main organizer.

“Kirsten.” She extended a hand towards Noora and she shook it, introducing herself in the process.

William simply sat down next to her, not saying a word.

“ _He probably assumes that everybody knows him. What a prick,”_ Noora thought.

Kirsten went on to summarize mostly what she had read before, about their foundation and its goals, before she got to the point that concerned them.

“So, what we would like to see from you, is a brand new routine. We know that you are both solo skaters, but our goal is to offer something new, something that has never been seen before, to draw people in. You’re both amazingly talented, so we are sure that you could come up with something really special.”

She handed each of them a sheet of paper.

“These are the artists who have already agreed to perform for us. You can pick any of the songs listed, or if absolutely necessary, we can ask them to modify their setlists.”

Noora looked over the list. They really had managed to convince some pretty big names.

“Please get back to me as soon as you’ve decided on a song, because we need to pair up the others as well.”

Noora and William both nodded and stood up, bidding Kirsten goodbye.

They walked side by side, back out to the reception area, where William suddenly turned to her.

“So what’s your number?”

Noora almost replied “What made you think I’d give you that?”, but she realized that he actually needed to be able to contact her somehow. They were going to work together, after all.

She hesitated. She couldn’t give him her actual, personal phone number.

“Call Eskild, my manager. He’ll pass all your messages on.”

“Okay,” William shrugged. Noora watched as he walked out to his car and sped away.

There were 2 months left until the gala. She could survive that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, reviews and kudos are much appreciated, as always! :)


	3. This isn't going to work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> First of all, thank you all so much for the comments & kudos, they make me so incredibly happy. Secondly, I'm sorry that this chapter is so late, university has been kicking my ass, but I finally managed to sit down and write, so here it is! Hope you like it!

Noora pulled her coat tighter around herself and burrowed her face into her scarf as she hurried towards the ice rink. It was still dark – they had agreed to meet at 7 AM. It was only 6:42, so she’d have some time to calm her nerves before having to face him. Something about William Magnusson unsettled her. She wasn’t sure what it was exactly: she had heard about his antics, of course, and he was equally well-known for his conquests and his skating achievements, but it wasn’t just that. At the meeting with Kirsten, they had barely interacted and yet, Noora found herself unable to place him. She had expected him to hit on her or say something outrageous, but all he seemed to be was quiet and reserved.

She pushed open the door to the rink and headed for the lockers, when a voice interrupted her train of thought. She whipped her head in the direction of the sound and to her surprise, saw William leaning against the railing that surrounded the ice.

“Morning, Noora,” he greeted her with a small smile.

“Yeah, uhm, thanks, I mean…,” Noora finally gathered her wits. “Good morning to you too.”

“Shall we get started right away?” he tilted his head in the direction of the ice.

“I was gonna go and change,” Noora started saying, but realized halfway through that William wasn’t dressed in training clothes either. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

They sat down on a bench, Noora grabbing the printed setlist from her duffel.

“So.”

“So,” William echoed.

“Did you have anything in mind?”

“Uhm, no. You?”

“No,” Noora sighed.

They were getting nowhere. 20 minutes had passed and they had not even managed to agree on a song, let alone on what their “special performance” should be.

“This isn’t gonna work,” Noora declared.

William quirked an eyebrow.

“Do you have a better idea?”

“In fact, I do.”

* * *

 “Is this your great idea? A preschool?” William asked incredulously, as he got out of his car.

“Just follow me,” said Noora, turning on her heel.

The noise was almost deafening as they entered one of the rooms, with Noora waving at the young woman sitting in a corner, surrounded by kids. When she saw them, she got to her feet and walked towards them, careful not to step on tiny hands or feet on the way out.

“Christina Berg, but everyone calls me Chris,” she said, shaking William’s hand, once she’d closed the office door behind her, drowning out the cacophony.

He introduced himself as well, and then they sat down around a table that was cluttered with official papers and toy catalogues, with some crayons and a bar of chocolate peeking out from the piles.

After a minute of slightly uncomfortable silence, Chris spoke up.

“So Noora tells me, you’ve been having trouble coming up with a “special performance”.

“Yeah...but I really don’t see how you could help us with that. You’re...”

“Chris is the most phenomenal choreographer I’ve ever known,” Noora cut in. “I’ve never had an issue with my choreography that she couldn’t solve.”

William furrowed his brow.

“But then...why do you work at a preschool?”

“Because I love it,” Chris smiled. “I was a professional choreographer for years, but I got bored of it.”

“Okay. So do you have any ideas for us?”

“The only thing I can say is what I’ve always told Noora. Find a story that you want to tell. The rest will come naturally.”

* * *

 “That was  _really_  phenomenal advice,” William said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, once they were back at the rink.

Noora glared at him.

“Seriously, don’t tell me that was helpful.”

“You are aware that you’re insulting my friend, right?”

William pressed his mouth into a thin line. Then his eyes suddenly lit up.

“I’ve got an idea!”

“Really?” Noora couldn’t help sounding shocked.

“Yeah, let’s listen to the lyrics this time. Maybe that will give us a story to work with.”

So they found themselves sitting on a bench again, back on Youtube, going to the tracklist again and Noora couldn’t believe how she had never noticed before how stupid the lyrics were to every single hit song from the previous 3 years. Another song had just ended, with an annoyingly repetitive chorus about love and dancing and sex and Noora buried her head in her hands with a groan.

“God, are these all about love or lust?”

William shrugged.

“We could do that. A love story, I mean.”

“No!” Noora replied, shocking herself with how fast the word had escaped her mouth.

“Why not?”

“Because that is the most cliché idea I’ve ever heard.”

“People love clichés. And love stories too,” William pointed out.

“I’m still not doing that.”

“Are you afraid you’ll fall in love with me?” he kept egging her on, and Noora could hear the smile in his voice.  _Now_  he was in his element.

She rolled her eyes.

“Play the next song.”

* * *

 “I’m doing it for the children. I’m doing it for the children,” Noora kept reminding herself as she headed home after the discussion with William, followed by a workout session. Under no other circumstances would she have ever agreed to skate to Kygo’s Firestone  _and_  pretend to be in love with William Magnusson, even for just a couple of minutes. Only for those kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think!


	4. A sign of some sort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there!
> 
> Again, I'm sorry this chapter is so late, but I hope you'll still enjoy it!

"Okay, let’s take it from the top again,” Noora repeated for what felt like the 100th time that day. They had most of the choreography down – in theory, at least. In practice, things looked rather different: they struggled to get past even the 30-second mark. William kept mixing up his turn sequence, while Noora often miscalculated her moves, accidentally bumping into him quite a few times.

William gave her a nod and moved back to the center of the rink. Noora grabbed the remote control for the sound system and restarted the song, taking her position: standing with her back pressed tightly against William’s, their fingers brushing sometimes. The moment the first bars of the song echoed in the hall, they skated forward, just a tiny bit, allowing them to turn around and put their palms together while slowly moving in a circle. Then came the difficult part: she had to slip away from him and change up the rhythm: they would be skating close to each other, with William chasing her, reaching out for her, but always missing the connection by a fraction of a second. This was where they had trouble syncing their moves, but this time, it finally went well enough. Well, almost. When Noora finished her last spin and William reached for her waist, he knocked her off-balance a little bit and Noora had to grab his shoulder to prevent the fall.

“Whoops, sorry,” she said, looking up to see a smirk on his lips.

“Falling for me, aren’t you?” he quipped.

“Because of you,” Noora corrected, “since you apparently struggle with simple moves as well.”

(It wasn’t necessarily his fault, but after a good 5 hours of rehearsals, Noora was certain that knocking his ego down a peg would only do him good.)

William only smiled in response.

* * *

_(2 days later)_

The wind was howling outside when Noora pulled into the rink’s parking lot. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard before cutting off the engine. 7:24. She would have a nice half an hour to herself on the ice before William showed up. She had always preferred warming up on her own, allowing her to calm her nerves before a competition or just to get a feel of the ice. She made a beeline for the entrance and quickly changed into her training clothes. Stifling a yawn, she connected her phone to the sound system and scrolled through her playlist – she really needed something upbeat the wake her up. Settling on the possibly most embarrassing song she had, she tapped play and waited for the familiar words.

_You know you love me, I know you care_

_Just shout whenever and I’ll be there_

_You are my love, you are my heart_

_And we will never, ever, ever be apart_

* * *

 

It had been a while since William last had trouble falling asleep (physical exhaustion and/or alcohol generally did the trick), but when he did, he _really_ did. So after a night of tossing and turning, finally giving up at 5 AM, and then drinking copious amounts of coffee, he sat there, in his car, outside the rink and contemplated what to do with the 30 minutes he had left until rehearsals would begin.

“Well, at least, there’s Wi-Fi inside,” he thought and pushed the car door open. Walking towards the entrance, he was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice Noora’s car was already there. Since he expected to be alone, the sound of music blaring inside came as a shock to him. What was even more shocking was what he saw: the ever serious Noora, skating to Justin Bieber’s Baby, of all possible songs.

He walked over to the side of the rink without thinking and soon found himself caught up in the sight of her smiling and laughing while criss-crossing the ice with some simple elements thrown in here or there. She was a graceful skater, he knew, but in that moment, she appeared to be almost floating on the ice.

The song ended and he was broken out of his reverie by Noora’s voice.

“William! What...are you doing here?”

She tried to appear calm and collected, but it was obvious that she was startled and William suddenly felt guilty for intruding on her private time.

“Uhm, I got here a bit earlier and I thought I’d come in,” he explained. “Sorry, if I...”

“No, it’s okay. I was just…, uhm, whatever. Come and warm up, we don’t have any time to lose.”

Despite their slightly awkward exchange in the beginning, the rehearsal went well, and Noora bid William goodbye in a better mood than she’d ever been in the last couple of weeks. Her happiness was short-lived though: it lasted until she got to her car and turned the key in the ignition. Her car refused to start up, displaying some kind of error symbol that she couldn’t decipher.

“Fuck,” she swore under her breath and tried again. No result.

Her phone dinged with a new message from Eskild:

“Hey Noora!!! I’ve been asked to move today’s meeting to 3 PM, can you make it?”

She checked the time. 2:38.

_Of. Fucking. Course this would happen when she had a really promising meeting coming up with some potential sponsors._

She ran her hand through her hair in frustration, then grabbed her phone to type an answer.

_“My car broke down, can’t make it.”_

Her thumb hovered over the “send” button, but then she heard a knock on the window. She looked up and saw William standing there, looking confused.

She pushed the car door open and got out.

“I thought you were in a hurry.”

Noora sighed.

“I am. The car broke down.”

“Do you want a ride?” he asked, nodding towards his car.

Noora considered it for about 3 seconds.

“Yeah, I’d be grateful.”

“Come on, then.”

* * *

William was kind enough not to force too much of a conversation on her, just asked where she was going and drove her there. She thanked him and received a genuine smile in return. She didn’t notice that she smiling as well until Eskild pointed it out.

“Have you been having fun with William?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Just a good practice session, that’s all,” Noora replied, careful to keep her tone serious.

* * *

William dropped his duffel bag on the apartment floor and grabbed his laptop off his desk, as well as a bag of cereal from the kitchen. He settled on the sofa, and opened up Netflix, to pass the time until Chris was supposed to come over to “talk business” (that generally turned into having a couple of beers and discussing anything, but that). He browsed through the available episodes, but nothing really caught his interest, so he wandered over to Youtube and, after some contemplation, typed _Noora S_ _ætre_ into the search bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos make my day :)  
> 


	5. Turning points

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> Thank you for all your wonderful comments & kudos, I really really appreciate each and every one of them. I'm finally back with a new chapter, I hope you enjoy reading this one too!

The performance was coming together rather nicely, Noora thought, as she rewatched footage from previous rehearsals while stretching after a rigorous home workout session. The song was a good match for them and William had turned out to be both a gifted choreographer, having suggested plenty of surprising but fitting moves, and a dedicated training partner. As much as it shocked Noora, she had to admit that despite her previous impressions of him, they did have some similarities. Determination was one of them: if a goal mattered, they would both give their all to attain it.

* * *

 She had forgotten something, she was sure of it. She racked her brain for an answer, momentarily losing focus - a grave mistake. She had just figured out what it was - she was due to call her parents for their monthly "check-in" - when a searing pain brought her back into reality and she found herself sitting on the ice, clutching her ankle. _Now, this was why her childhood coach had always warned her not to think about anything else when skating._ William was practicing a solo sequence on the other side of the rink, but as soon as he saw her, he rushed over and knelt next to her, worry evident on his face.

"Noora, what happened?"

"I..fell..." Noora gritted out.

"Can you stand?" he asked, extending a hand to help her up.

Noora ignored it and tried to get back on her feet, but the moment she tried putting some of her weight on her injured leg, the pain became unbearable and she fell back on her butt.

Seeing her struggle, William simply hooked an arm under her knees and lifted her up, carrying her off the ice. Noora was so taken aback that she forgot to protest ( _she was more than capable of tending to her own injury, thank you very much_ ) even when he sat her down on one of the benches and promptly undid the laces of her skate shoe. He pulled it off gingerly, revealing her already swollen ankle.

"You must have sprained it. I'll take you to the doctor," he stated, and before she could have said anything, William took her into his arms again, headed for his car. He helped her settle in the passenger seat, as gently as he could, and sped off in the direction of the nearest hospital. When he pulled up in front of the entrance, Noora turned to him:

"Thank you for your help. I'll take it from here."

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" William was no stranger to injuries either and knew that they could seem a lot less severe than they actually were.

"I'll be fine. I've texted Eskild, he's coming to pick me up," Noora assured him.

"Does your ankle still hurt?"

"Yeah, but I think it's getting better. I really hope it won't take more than a week to heal, but I'll call you to let you know what the doctor said, okay?" she said, giving him a small smile.

"Okay." William smiled back. It seemed as though he had wanted to add something else, but the words never came. Instead, he just leaned across the center console and engulfed her in a clumsy hug.

"Take care, Noora. And call me if you need anything." There was something odd about his voice, but Noora was too preoccupied with other things to give it much thought. As she said goodbye and climbed out of his car, careful not to worsen her injury, her mind kept reeling. She felt alert and dazed at the same time. It was a strange sensation, but not unpleasant - like William’s hug. It was kind of touching how much he worried about her, she thought, as she hobbled over to the emergency room.

* * *

William didn't realize how deep in thought he was until the driver behind him honked so loudly that he almost had a heart attack. Squinting up at the traffic lights, he saw that they had turned green. Putting up a hand as a form of apology, he quickly took a turn and kept his attention focused on the road for the rest of his journey home. He couldn't shake the worrying thought that Noora must have been freaked out by his hug (truth to be told, he himself would have freaked out, had he been in her situation), and he couldn't even explain it to himself why he had felt that was necessary. But - he told himself repeatedly - she hadn't pushed him away, so that was good. He really hoped he hadn't made her uncomfortable, because he, despite all this, couldn't really bring himself to regret it.

* * *

The boredom. Out of all the injury-related changes in her life, this took its toll on Noora the most. It was only 3 PM on a lovely afternoon and she had already run out of things that she could do with her ankle bandaged. She had answered a dozen e-mails, analyzed all training videos she had, finished the book she had been reading, watched two episodes of a series and decided that she wasn't interested in seeing the rest...she was out of options. Sighing, she opened up her laptop again and opened a news website. Normally, she would only read headline news, but this time, she ended up scrolling through the entire page, absentmindedly picking a few articles that sounded at least a bit interesting, until she suddenly saw her own face staring back at her. She would have ignored it - she had learnt a long time ago to avoid reading whatever the press said about her, especially tabloids -, but something caught her attention: her picture was juxtaposed with William’s. That surprised her, because the press wasn't supposed to know anything about their upcoming performance yet - the organizers had already released some names, but theirs would be the last ones to be announced, to keep up the interest and draw in even more people. The title was ambiguous enough: _Noora S_ _æ_ _tre & William Magnusson - together?_ Noora clicked on the article, expecting to find that someone had leaked the info about the gala, but soon realized that wasn't the case.

_"A new love might be in the cards for ice skating stars, Noora Sætre (21) and William Magnusson (23). According to several witnesses, the pair were seen sharing a hug in his car, just 2 days ago. Ice skating superfan, Ingrid Jensen (16) also reveals that she has spotted William's car several times in the parking lot of an Oslo ice rink where Noora is rumored to be training. We contacted both their reps, asking for confirmation, but have received no reply._

_While we remain on the lookout for other signs of a relationship between the two, let's not forget that Noora wouldn’t be the first skater to be charmed by William. An unnamed source tells us that he was previously involved with Vilde Lien, Noora's ex-teammate. Their relationship is said to have ended just a week before the 2018 Olympic Games and the break-up is rumored to have been the reason for Vilde's less than stellar performance at the competition. Let's hope that things go better this time._

_If you'd like more figure skating news, follow..."_

Noora couldn't even finish reading the article. As the realization dawned on her, her mind clouded over with anger. She couldn't believe it. The complete asshole, who had ruined Vilde's career, who had shown zero respect for her and her feelings, who had reduced her to a crying mess on their bathroom floor in their hotel room --was William? She had been training with someone capable of that? Despite not knowing previously - Vilde had never even mentioned his name, only that she was seeing someone -, Noora felt disgusted with herself, like she had betrayed Vilde and their sort-of-friendship. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she considered her options. She would never be able to look at William the same way. Could she still cancel the performance? She would have to call Eskild to discuss that. She dialled his number, but he was unavailable. Sighing, she decided to try again later.

"Fuck," she thought to herself, "just when things were finally going well."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me! It wouldn't be William and Noora, if it was all smooth sailing... anyways, please let me know what you thought of this chapter!


	6. Refusal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! First of all, I'm so sorry that this chapter is so late and so short. I hope you'll still enjoy it. Also, I wanted to say that no matter how long it takes for me to update, I won't abandon this story. And your messages and kudos mean the world to me, so thank you for reading!

Generally speaking, Noora wasn't a hotheaded person. Instead of making rash decisions, she preferred careful planning and she rarely let her emotions take control. By the end of that fateful day, once the shock had worn off, she had formulated a plan. Her contract would not allow her to back out of the performance (and she did need the money, even though she was determined to donate a part of it), but she _could_ change the choreography, and if William had the slightest bit of common sense (she wasn't completely sure about that), he wasn't going to put up a fight. There was no way in hell she would perform a _romantic_ routine with him. She would have to make an effort just to tolerate him.

So, yeah. Act cold, but polite, inform him of the changes and get the whole thing over with, hopefully with as little interaction as possible. That was the plan that went out the window the moment that she saw him in the parking lot, on the day of their first rehearsal after her ankle had healed. He was leaning against his car, holding his phone up to snap a photo, with the rink visible in the background and his signature grin on his face. The grin that generally made women melt into a puddle at his feet, but in this case, it just made Noora's blood boil. All rational thoughts escaping her, she marched right up to him. The moment he noticed her, he lowered his phone and gave her a smile, accompanied by a "Good morning!", but she didn't have any time or patience for pleasantries.

"So, who is it this time?"

"Who's who?" William asked, dumbfounded.

"The girl you're currently trying to charm and delude into thinking that you are a proper human being who truly cares about her, only to dump her a couple weeks later once you've found someone else to fuck?" Noora said with an acidic tone.

William narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

Noora let out a bitter laugh.

"Oh, I'm sure you know _who_ I'm talking about."

William still seemed lost, but Noora couldn't stop herself from ploughing on.

"I honestly wonder what is wrong with you. Has the fame gone to your head? Do you think that you're so amazing that you can just do whatever you want? Did someone call you gay for being a skater and now you are obsessed with proving that you aren't? Or was it a traumatic childhood? Did your parents only care about the medals that you won? Whatever it was, you should get over it, because you can't just go around and ruin other people's lives only to feel manly or whatever. Stop behaving like a fucking cliché." With that said, Noora made a move to turn around, leaving William rooted to his spot.

She had barely taken 3 steps when she heard his voice.

"You know, I still have no idea what you're talking about."

His apparent ignorance made her anger flare up again and she turned around to look into his eyes.

"Maybe the name Vilde Lien will ring a bell."

She watched the recognition dawn on him and he opened his mouth to explain himself, probably, but she wasn't interested in hearing his excuses. So she turned on her heel and drove off, only realizing a while later that she had forgotten to give him the documents containing their new choreography that she had sketched out 2 days before. She would have to ask Eskild to forward them to him as she had deleted his phone number right away when she found out who he was, and had no intention of asking for it again.

* * *

As expected, Eskild had asked her approximately a million questions, all of which Noora deflected, but eventually, she did manage to get him to send William a copy of Noora's instructions regarding their new routine. Or at least, that was what she assumed once she saw him standing outside the rink a week later. When he saw her approaching, he hurried over to her.

"Noora, can we please talk?"

"Have you received my message?" Noora asked instead, not looking at him.

"Yes, I have, but..."

"In that case, you know that we have a new choreography to practice and we don't have much time, so go and get changed. Quickly."

William tried to argue, but Noora strode past him, right into the dressing room. They didn't exchange any more words during the session, despite William's attempts. Once they were done for the day, she gave him a curt nod and left.

* * *

Noora was sitting on the floor of her living room, surrounded by gigantic boxes of books, fanmail and various objects she had stashed away due to the lack of space in her apartment when she heard her phone ringing in the adjacent room. Her first instinct was to let it go to voicemail - it was a Sunday afternoon, so she could call back whoever it was later, once she'd finished sorting through her stuff and thrown out anything unnecessary, but no sooner had the ringing ended than it started up again. Sighing, Noora got up and padded over to the other room. She was glad she did, because the caller ID showed the name of a person that she absolutely had to talk to, for one reason or another: Vilde.


	7. Something you should know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe it? For once, it didn't take me a month to write a new chapter! This one doesn't have much Noorhelm interaction, but I hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless.

"Hi, Vilde!" Noora said as she picked up the phone, happy to hear from her friend despite her subdued mood and current troubles. "Where in the world are you now?"

"Hey, Noora." Vilde said, in a voice that sounded shockingly calm and mature to Noora. Gone was her somewhat annoying, chirpy and overexcited tone, replaced by one that immediately made Noora miss those rare days when they had gotten to share some quality time, away from the stresses of training and competing, away from the prying questions of journalists and fans alike. "I'm actually back in Norway now for a couple of weeks now, and then I'll be going to Peru."

"So you're done with...Cambodia, was it?" Noora was trying to keep track of her globetrotter friend, but it sometimes proved to be difficult as Vilde seemed to jump from one country to another in a matter of days.

"Yes, our project is finished there, although maybe I'll go back to check on them sometime. Imagine this, we built 3 new schools in 3 different towns and the headmaster called me today and said that they have received funding for a 4th one," Vilde said, pride and joy evident in her voice.

"Vilde, that's amazing! Should we meet up for a coffee, so that you can tell me more?"

"Sure!" came Vilde's lightning-fast reply and Noora reached for her planner to see her schedule for next week. "But I actually wanted to talk to you about William."

Just hearing his name made Noora's stomach drop, like she had swallowed a stone, and words came rushing out before she could stop them.

"Oh my god, Vilde, before you say anything, I just wanna say that I'm so so sorry, if I had known it was him, I wouldn't have agreed to the whole thing. I even had a feeling that I shouldn't do this, but you know Eskild, he kept insisting on it and I just..." Noora would have kept rambling, had it not been for Vilde, who interrupted her.

"It's okay, Noora."

"No, it's not okay, he said those awful things to you, and I should have put it together, I should have realized it was him you had talked about. I mean, you said he was a hockey player, but I remember thinking that I didn't know anyone named William who was on the hockey team and..."

"Noora," Vilde cut in again, more firmly this time. "I know what I said. But I also know that I never really told you the full story."

"What else is there to tell?" Noora wanted to ask, but decided that it would be rude, so she remained silent, waiting for Vilde to say whatever she wanted to say.

Vilde took a deep breath and launched into the story.

"So the thing is...I was in a very bad place mentally, during those months leading up to the Games. Every day, every practice felt like a chore. It was like...I was working towards perfection, but all I could feel was getting further and further away from it. And the worst of it was that I knew I was supposed to be happy, excited and proud, because every child dreams of going to the Olympics, don't they? And I was there, as a potential contender for medals, even, and I just couldn't bring myself to feel like that. The Games just felt like this giant grey cloud looming over my head. Just the thought of competing and possibly falling made me so anxious I felt like throwing up one of those disgusting protein-rich meals." Vilde made a sound to illustrate just how much she had hated those which made Noora chuckle despite herself. "So I tried to...make myself happy somehow, if you get what I mean. And back then, I thought I could only be truly happy if I was with someone. So when I met William, I kind of...decided that he was going to make me happy and I ignored everything that seemed to imply the contrary. He told me that he wasn't looking for anything serious and I told myself that I would be fine with that. But then...we slept together and he was so kind, and he made me forget about my issues for a little bit. And that was what I wanted more of. Back then, I thought I was in love with him, but now I realize that I only saw him as a solution to my own problems. So I clung onto him and bombarded him with messages and he was kind enough to respond and hang out with me sometimes, but...we were never in a real relationship, no matter how much I wanted to. And...I do wish that he had chosen another time to tell me that he really really wasn't interested in pursuing anything more between us and I still think a lot about what he said to me, because I guess it still hurts, but I have come to realize that what happened between us was just as much my fault as it was his."

Noora, shocked by Vilde's admission, remained silent for at least a minute before speaking up.

"But Vilde...why didn't you tell me any of this back then? Not necessarily the thing about William, but how you were struggling."

Vilde's voice was quiet when she answered.

"Because I wanted to be like you. I looked up to you so much back then. Don't get me wrong, I still do, but when we were teammates...Noora, you were the star. The best, the prettiest, the kindest, who never complained, who worked twice as hard as everyone else. And I thought that maybe, one day, I could be like you, if I put in enough effort. You were thriving before the Olympics, I remember reading in every newspaper that the gold medal was yours to lose, and I didn't want to bring you down with my problems. And the reason why I never really told you about William was that I knew that you would judge me. I knew what you thought of guys like him and I didn't want you to think that I was stupid enough to fall for him..."

"Oh, Vilde," Noora croaked out, her throat having closed up sometime during their conversation. "I would never think that you were stupid. You are one of the smartest, kindest and most hard-working people that I know and you have already accomplished so much more than I have. I'm sorry that I never noticed that you weren't doing well. I wish I could have done something."

"It's okay, Noora. To be honest, I kinda feel like I needed this experience in order to truly realize who I am."

"I'm so happy that you found your path, Vilde," Noora said with a small smile.

"I am too. So, what about that coffee?" Vilde changed the topic, as usual, and Noora was glad for it. She dug out her planner from her bag and they soon managed to agree on the time and place.

"Great, so see you there!" Vilde exclaimed, and then added "And don't feel bad about what happened with William. Eskild told me that you were beating yourself up over it, but you couldn't have known and honestly, nowadays I feel like I'm slowly getting over him."

"That's good to hear, Vilde. I'm proud of you."

"Thank you," Vilde said sincerely, disconnecting the call after they had said their goodbyes, and Noora just stood there, phone in hand. That was a lot to take in. Ever since that fateful night when Vilde showed up sobbing at her doorstep in the Olympic Village, a half-empty bottle of wine in her hand, barely being able to get out the words that William had broken up with her, that he had said she wasn't good enough and that he didn't feel anything for her, Noora had him categorized as a spoiled, insensitive asshole, who didn't deserve a second of her attention. But now, knowing that things had not exactly happened like that and having spent some time with William herself, she wondered if it had been unfair of her to confront him without giving him a chance to tell his own version of the story.

She decided that she had to talk to him, that she would try to make amends. But when she dialled his number (Eskild, being his usual meddling self, had sent her an e-mail with it, claiming that she was just being immature. Noora had laughed at the accusation, because really, Eskild was the definition of that exact term - now she had to admit that it was indeed slightly immature of her.), it went straight to his voicemail. She went back to organizing her books and tried again an hour later, but to no avail.

"Never mind," she thought to herself, she would just tell him in person, since their next rehearsal was in fact planned for the coming Monday. Such things weren't to be discussed over the phone anyway.

Little did she know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I would love to hear your thoughts. :)


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